The Alien by Josephine Bell Page B

drawing-room.
    â€œAll out except you, Ogden?’’ he threw back as he reached the other door.
    â€œMrs. Ogden and Louise are out, sir. But—’’
    Colin gave him no time to report on the couple in the garden. He nodded briskly as Ogden began to speak and had disappeared before the old man had completed the first sentence. Muttering an unfavourable comment on his master’s impatience, Ogden went down to the kitchen. Mrs. Ogden was not yet back from her shopping expedition. Ogden growled again, filled a kettle and put it on to boil. They’d all be crying out for tea before long, he decided.
    Scziliekowicz rose from a chair near the window as Colin entered. The latter’s greeting was warm and suitably deferential from a younger man to one at the head of an emigré organization, even if the latter engaged in no political activities which might serve as a bond between them.
    â€œMr. Masterson thought you would prefer a quiet milieu for our talk,’’ Colin began. “I should like to say at once that we do very much appreciate your forbearance and reasonableness over the question of this man, Sudenic.’’
    â€œCount Sudenic,’’ said the other, gently, “is or was, meaning his father, an important figure in my country.’’
    â€œCount?’’ Colin was rather put out. “I had no idea—’’
    â€œHis father, Count Alexei Sudenic, was a large landowner, a most cultivated man and a personal friend of mine.’’
    â€œI see,’’ Colin said, cursing his boss for inadequate briefing. “So no wonder you take a deep interest in his son. I suppose Sudenic – Count Sudenic – got in touch with your society as soon as he obtained his temporary residence permit.’’
    â€œNot exactly,’’ answered Scziliekowicz. “We heard he was in England and got in touch with him. We wanted to hear his story.’’
    This was better. Colin urged the old man to repeat the version he had been told, and all he knew of the man’s family and antecedents. It proved to be disappointingly similar to the results of the original screening.
    â€œThat is what we got from him, too,’’ he agreed.
    â€œI believe it is the truth. He is not in the habit of telling lies.’’
    There was a little pause. Colin decided to wait. After all, it was the old Pole who had asked for an interview. So far he had not given any reason for it nor asked any questions. Surely such precautions, such careful privacy, could not have as their sole object the simple matter of confirming Sudenic’s statement, which he had said he did not doubt. When at last Scziliekowicz spoke, Colin’s mind was so relieved of confusion and near-guilt that he almost laughed.
    The Pole said, “Do you trust him, Mr. Brentwood?’’
    Official caution withheld a heart-felt ‘no’.
    â€œThere are certain doubts,’’ Colin answered. “You share them, it seems.’’
    â€œI will tell you the reason for it, so that you may be more frank with me. I have described to you the manner of Count Alexei’s death with the rest of his family. Boris’ expressed a natural horror and grief when he heard it from me. But there is a variant of his description of his own actions which suggests that he persuaded the troop he was with to turn aside, not because the Germans had an ambush for them, but precisely because he knew of the peasant rising and did not wish to run into it, despite the fact that he had sent a message to his family to leave their home and wait for him in a certain place.’’
    â€œMy God!’’
    â€œIf they had not left their home two days before I passed through Count Sudenic’s estate I should have taken the family with me. My friend, his wife and family would have accompanied me into exile.’’
    â€œI suppose he meant to keep his word to them? Germans or